


boss of me

by ornery



Series: boss of me series [1]
Category: Malcolm in the Middle
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Annie is 13, Bullying, California - 2000s, F/M, Herkabe is 39, Medication, Older Man/Younger Woman, Power Dynamics, Slight Canon Divergence, Slight Canon-Compliant, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24222217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornery/pseuds/ornery
Summary: TAGS WILL BE ADDED AS STORY PROGRESSES.Annie Robinson has been in the Krelboyne class since the beginning of middle school. When her class is introduced to their new teacher, Mr. Herkabe, she is taken aback by his no-nonsense attitude and deflection of her ‘kiss-assery.’She doesn’t think it will take long to change his mind about her.
Relationships: Minor Original Female Character/Malcolm (Malcolm in the Middle), Original Female Character/Lionel Herkabe
Series: boss of me series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748332
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. yes

**Author's Note:**

> REPOST
> 
> After some heavy editing, I feel comfortable posting this again.
> 
> I have so much planned for this series and I'm excited to start!

The digital alarm clock awoke at six-thirty in the morning. It was promptly swatted at by a hand from under the bedsheets and blankets. When the incessant buzzing stopped, the hand slipped back into its warm cavern like a snake. "Five more minutes," a groggy voice murmured beneath the many layers.

A series of knocks came from the door, followed by, "Annie! Annie, wake up and unlock the door!"

The cocoon of blankets whined and rolled away from the noise. "Ten more minutes!"

"There won't be any pancakes left!"

Sitting upright, Annie whipped the blankets to the side. She rubbed her eyes of sleep and wiped her mouth of drool. "Alright, alright! I'm up," she huffed.

"You have fifteen minutes!" 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway until the sound disappeared completely. There was sweet, blissful silence, which was going to be obsolete for the next twelve hours.

It was the first day of eighth grade, and Annie was dreading it. What with the crowded hallways that were full of hilariously stereotypical cliques. Or the bullies who yanked at her hair and played Keep-Away with her glasses. Or the birdbrained teachers with fixed agendas and crumbling personal lives. 

Annie stretched before grabbing her glasses and smoothed the wrinkles out of her pajamas. She went to the vanity, where she opened her pill organizer on 'Monday.'

She looked at the piece of paper taped to her mirror, reading aloud the list that her third therapist had recommended:

"I am worthy." With a dose of Xanax.

"I am a beautiful person, inside and out." With a dose of Zoloft.

"I am vibrant and confident." With a dose of Haldol.

"I make my dreams my reality." With a dose of Ritalin.

"I will triumph over all challenges." With a dose of Trileptal.

She held her breath as though waiting for a spell to break, but was ultimately disappointed. She deflated and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Undoing both the padlock and chain on her door, she shuffled to the bathroom to start her day.

-

Once Annie was combed and dressed, she sat at the kitchen table while Mom hurriedly flipped another pancake. On the opposite end, her ten-year-old brother, Chad, munched away at his share of food, imitating some kind of wild animal. Dad kept his distance with a mug of coffee. 

Dad and his deeply-rooted Irish ancestry were to blame for his children's fiery hair color. Now, well past his mid-life crisis, he didn't seem to mind it and chose to ignore Annie's complaints, even after she was called 'fire crotch' for a year and a half. He smiled good-naturedly, "You must be excited, Annie."

"'Excited' isn't the word, Dad. 'Apprehensive' is more like it. Or 'trepidatious.' Yeah, 'trepidatious.' I like that one better," she sighed. "I mean, it's not like I have anything to look forward to."

It was true. The only bearable aspect of dragging herself through the double doors five days out of the week was her close – albeit small – group of friends. They all carried astounding IQs like her, took an interest in intellectual topics like her, and endured the acute torment like her; they were Krelboynes.

Annie had found herself placed in the gifted class not long after the second week of fifth grade. At first, she had been taken aback by the fact that the entire student body saw her as a weak and overly-intelligent mass of nerves. 

But after years of being acquainted with the disadvantages and advantages of being a Krelboyne, Annie came to terms with her placement. She took pride in working alongside those at the same level as her, rather than impatiently waiting for them to be brought up to speed. 

"I bet Malcolm will be happy to see you," Mom said, placing another plate in front of her ravenous son.

Huh. Annie often enjoyed the company of a certain boy named Malcolm. He was different from the average Krelboyne, and yet exactly like one at the same time. He had a sense of humor but was often pretentious and bratty. He was a genius at the most incredible times but an idiot at the worst of times.

So, yeah, she was happy to see Malcolm, although she couldn't say the same for him.

"Malcolm isn't happy to see anyone, Mom," Annie smiled bitterly. After her seventh pancake, she slid out of her seat and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She ruffled Chad's curly locks as she skipped towards the front door. "I'll walk today. See you guys later."

"Good luck, hon'!"

-

Luckily for Annie, she lived relatively close to the school. It would usually take ten minutes at most to sprint along the sidewalks and across the few streets. She made it to the courtyard with some time to spare before the first bell. 

Glancing at the 'Welcome back, Wildcats!' banner, she spotted her friends in the center of the concrete pool. Stevie, Kevin, and Lloyd all wore sour expressions.

Malcolm joined the group. Before Annie was able to give him a proper greeting, Stevie wheezed, "Thank God! Summer's... over."

"I'm guessing you didn't have a good vacation?" she said.

"Hello, babies," called a voice from across the courtyard. Reese, Malcolm's older brother by a year, balanced himself on the edge of the wall that divided the middle school and high school. He grinned, "How's baby school, babies?"

"Didn't high school start like a half-hour ago?" Malcolm scowled.

"Hey, if I'm on time today, they're going to expect it every day."

Just then, another Krelboyne, Dabney, approached – however, he was currently in a headlock by a much larger student. His friends shrunk away in fear of being next. "Hi, Reese. This is Gus," Dabney said. "He's in the lead to replace you as school bully. He gives a wedgie that'll knock your socks off. I'm not just saying that 'cause he's got me in a headlock."

"If you grab your wrists instead of your fingers, you'll get better leverage," Reese advised.

Lloyd piped up, "You better listen to him. He's the man."

As expected, Gus changed his stance and tightened his grip on the helpless Dabney, who grunted in pain.

Annie turned to Malcolm and pushed his arm slightly. "You heard Miss Caroline isn't coming back from her maternity leave, right?" 

She couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. She was just starting to tolerate Ms. Caroline's oddball antics when she went into sudden labor – even though it was partly Annie's fault. More literally, a misprogrammed model rocket's. She wasn't sure if she was ready to get accustomed to an entirely new teacher and an entirely new teaching method.

"Seriously? That blows," Malcolm frowned. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about any more 'yoga for the incapacitated' sessions."

"Hey, I liked those!"

Laughing, the two followed the rest of the Krelboynes into the portable classroom. 

-

Inside, Lloyd pulled out a green folder stuffed with papers and slapped it onto his desk. "I've completed the research on our new teacher – if anyone's interested."

The six Krelboynes each grabbed at a piece of research paper as Lloyd recited, "Lionel Herkabe. Born July eighteenth, nineteen sixty-three. Parents – John and Ida. Notice anything?"

"He's divorced?" Annie suggested.

"He was... a Krelboyne!"

Kevin smiled, "We won't have to talk down to him!"

"Finally," said Dabney. "Someone who knows our pain."

"Bentley Gifted High. Princeton. Harvard Business," Malcolm read aloud from his paper. "What's this guy doing teaching?"

"Well, there was some unpleasantness. He quit a government think tank to start a dot-com," Lloyd frowned. With that, they all shuddered.

Malcolm whistled, "One-time net worth two hundred million. Now, a hundred and thirty-seven dollars."

To their left, Kevin moved to the door and peeked through a crack. He gasped, swiftly shut the door, and shook like a child's toy. His voice cracked when he shouted, "Here he comes! Here he comes!"

Despite her uncertainty about a new teacher, Annie went out of her way to buy a welcome gift for Mr. Herkabe. She rushed to place her decorated box on his desk alongside many other students' offerings and flew to her designated seat. She wasn't kept waiting until he let himself into the classroom.

Annie immediately noted how dark his hair and eyes were. As opposed to Ms. Caroline's colorful outfits and bubbly attitude, Mr. Herkabe wore a plain fitted suit and a cold demeanor. Also, he was much older than his predecessor – thirty-nine years old, just a bit younger than her dad, and it showed.

Mr. Herkabe's eyes swept over the little group of preteens. He didn't smile or speak; he simply walked towards his desk, which was overflowing with presents. Setting his briefcase beside his chair, he reached for a styrofoam coffee cup and squinted at the note stuck to it. "Who's Dabney?" he asked.

"That's me, sir!" Dabney squawked, jumping to his feet. "I took the liberty of ordering you a decaf soy latte."

There was a pause before Mr. Herkabe spoke, "Let me guess. Emotionally needy, closet bed-wetter. You get no affection from home, so you'll be seeking it from me. Look elsewhere, son."

As Annie's jaw unhinged and nearly hit the surface of her desk, Dabney plopped back into his chair in defeat. To her absolute horror, her teacher picked up her gift and took a moment to examine it. "Who's the anal-retentive outsider?"

Every single Krelboyne hand was raised.

He played with the bow that Annie had painstakingly sought after at the Hallmark store. "With repressed exhibitionist tendencies?"

A blushing Annie shot up and almost screamed, "It was from me, sir! Please, stop."

Annie had learned of intercourse at the age of seven when she caught her parents in bed, conceiving her younger brother. Ever since then, she had reveled in showing or touching herself when no one was looking. The prospect of being caught simply added to the excitement. 

It was a dirty little secret that she was sure no one knew until now. How Mr. Herkabe somehow knew just by looking at some ribbons, she had no clue. She quickly concurred that he was either a genius or a psychopath, and she was leaning towards the latter.

Seemingly ignoring Annie, Mr. Herkabe spoke, "As you may or may not know, I was once one of you – a Krelboyne. And I'm sure I would've made the same lame attempt to ingratiate myself to the new, soft-headed thickwit teaching my class. Oh, yes, I've been there. I have been coddled and preened. 'Oh, you're a genius! You can do anything you set your mind to. It must be so easy being you!' Well, bullshit!"

Collective gasps rang out.

"All that gets you is an ex-wife and fourteen million dollars in debt. Now, I refuse to let you fall into the trap society has set for you," Mr. Herkabe growled, wagging a finger at the class.

"Playtime is over, children. You've had a free ride so far. It's about time somebody motivated you, challenged you– tested your mental limits!" he said. Then he dug through his briefcase for a stack of papers. "Granted, I don't have a teaching certificate from a two-year community college like most of the people I was forced to say 'Hello' to this morning in the teacher's lounge. But, you know, I'm just going to try to muddle through with my double doctorate from Harvard." 

With that, he dropped the stack of papers onto the nearest student's desk with the intention of them taking one and passing it down to the next. Lloyd gulped, "This is a test."

"Correct. You have twenty minutes," Mr. Herkabe drawled. He started to make himself comfortable at his desk.

Annie mumbled, "There are six essay questions."

"I'm sorry. I thought this was the gifted class," Mr. Herkabe feigned naivety. "Begin!"


	2. no

The next day started with the Krelboynes nervously waiting for the results of their first test. Mr. Herkabe was leaning against the edge of his desk, now devoid of any gifts, looking somewhat smug as he flipped through the papers. "Well, I have your test results. You all got A's."

He allowed the class to exhale their sighs of relief before adding, "But, since this is the gifted class, I also factored in cogency of argument, economy of language, and penmanship, which enabled me to do this." 

He stood next to a reversible cork board and flipped it to the opposite side, revealing a sort of chart. The name of each student was written alongside their exact grade. Malcolm was placed at Number One with a grade of 99.999823, and it continued all the way down to Milo, who was placed at Number Fourteen with a grade of 98.999822.

Malcolm inquired, "What's that?"

"A ranking board."

"But I thought you said we all got A's?"

"Oh, you did. But some of you got better A's than others."

"But, we all still have A's?" Lloyd repeated.

"Of course."

"So, what does being Number One get you?" Malcolm asked.

"Nothing. Just the knowledge that you are Number One," Mr. Herkabe pointed at Malcolm. "Or that you are not Number One," he pointed at Kevin, who lowered his head in shame.

When Dabney raised his hand, Mr. Herkabe said, "Yes, Number Five?"

"It's Dabney, sir."

"I know. What is it, Number Five?"

Dabney frowned, "I forgot."

-

An hour later found the six Krelboynes sitting around one of the lunch tables during recess. They barely picked at their packed lunches, too busy complaining about Mr. Herkabe. At the head of the table, Stevie led the conversation, "What... a jerk."

"Is that what we're gonna turn out like?" Lloyd asked. "If I ever start acting like that, you have to promise to kill me!"

Annie interjected, "No! No more death pacts."

"Don't worry about it. The only way that stupid board can have an effect on us is if we let it. Those numbers mean nothing," Malcolm smiled optimistically.

There was a pause while Kevin began to look back and forth between his milk carton and an object in his lap. Stevie narrowed his eyes at the display and demanded, "What are... you doing?"

"Nothing!"

Reaching over, Lloyd yanked a textbook out from under the table. "You were studying?"

Kevin stammered, "No, I wasn't! My book just fell open to this page!"

Across the table, Dabney giggled nervously, "You know, I'm really not hungry."

"I think I left my recess stuff in my locker," Lloyd made a foul attempt at lying as he edged out of his seat. Once he and the four other Krelboynes were on their feet – or at least, in Stevie's case, turned in the opposite direction – they dashed away from the table, leaving Malcolm and Annie in their wake.

She looked at Malcolm with a confused expression and laughed, "They're absolutely crazy."

"Yeah."

Annie swallowed a spoonful of yogurt and whined, "Can you believe Mister Herkabe wants us to read all of  _ Moby Dick _ for homework? I mean, I can read as fast as the next person, but it's only the second day. It's a bit excessive, right?"

"Sure," he mumbled through his sandwich.

Annie scrunched her nose and sighed, "You're gross."

-

Mr. Herkabe decided that he wanted the class to have a group discussion on the topics presented in  _ Moby Dick _ the following day. The students were seated in a circle with their teacher and the dreaded ranking board looming above them. 

Despite being the first one to get the ball rolling, Annie kept quiet as Kevin spoke. "Certainly, the whale represents the search for God, but that could be limiting. We could say that it was the search for the self. Melville could be considered a pre-existentialist," he chirped, his eyes unmoving from Mr. Herkabe's hand on his nameplate.

Apparently satisfied with Kevin's interpretation, Mr. Herkabe switched Kevin's place at Number Four with Lloyd's place at Number Three.

Lloyd jumped at the opportunity to say, "But you can't deny that the whale could also be the search for truth, which has been a theme throughout his whole oeuvre!"

Annie watched while her teacher swapped the two boy's names once more. It was difficult not to open her mouth, but she secretly wasn't about to risk her spot as Number Two. 

She cringed as Dabney tried to put in his two cents, "But we can't overlook the fact that it was an actual whale, which was the biggest industry in the nineteenth century. The oil was used in lamps, soaps, and even cosmetics—"

Eyes widened at the sight of Mr. Herkabe taking Dabney's plate from Number Five and lowering it down place after place. It was like being forced to watch a train wreck to the very end, flames and all. But alas, the poor boy rambled on, "Today, whaling is outlawed, but many Aleutian islanders are legally allowed to harvest whales for ritual purposes. But I digress!" until his name was slapped at Number Thirteen. He dropped back into his chair and whimpered.

"Wow. Nine places. That's got to be a record," Mr. Herkabe huffed over Dabney's sobbing. 

"Now, onto new business. This Friday, Principal Littledove will be dropping by for a little evaluation. I think he'll be very impressed with what he sees. I don't think he'll understand it, but I think his tiny brain will have the dim perception of the progress you can make when students are properly motivated."

He started to fix the nameplates and, without looking back at his students, asked rhetorically, "Now, who would like to sink their teeth into some Bernoulli equations?"

Eagerly, all the Krelboynes – excluding Malcolm – raised their hand as a means to appease their teacher.

-

Again, like yesterday, Malcolm and Annie made their way to the courtyard for lunch. However, instead of finding the Krelboynes eating their soy, non-fat meals, they discovered that they had their faces practically glued to their textbooks. 

Annie sighed, "Come on, you guys. Look at yourselves. If we don't let those stupid rankings get to us, they mean nothing!"

"Easy for you to say, Number Two!" Dabney sniveled.

"I have a name," she barked. "We all have names!"

"Oh, my god! I can't remember mine!" Lloyd shrieked.

Malcolm growled, "This is ridiculous! School used to be the one place where you were truly happy, and Herkabe has taken that away from you. That stupid board is ruining our lives. We can't let him do that!"

"What choice... do we have?"

"We have the choice that people have had for centuries," Malcolm stated. "We can choose to fail."

"Like the French?" Dabney offered.

"You mean... we tank... today's test?"

"No. We don't tank it. We nuke it. Every answer wrong. No complete sentences. No punctuation. And we use Number Three pencils."

Kevin smiled, "You can't rank zeroes!"

"That's brilliant!" Lloyd agreed.

"He'll have no choice but to throw out his stupid system!" Dabney cackled.

"We'll be free!" The Krelboynes cheered and gave each other high-fives in excitement.

-

Though the following morning was supposed to be a rejoicing moment for the Krelboynes, it appeared that they couldn't bring themselves to perform lower than the usual A-level. They turned their reddened faces away from Malcolm, who received an F for his valiant efforts and steamed with anger.

Annie guiltily watched Herkabe lean over Malcolm's desk and express how disappointed he was in him. Then he approached the chart and put Malcolm's name at Number Fourteen, and her name at Number One. "Congratulations to our new Number One. Let's hope you don't choke like your predecessor."

Sullen rounds of clapping echoed in Annie's ears. She allowed herself a small smile in response to her teacher's 'praise.'

Once the Krelboynes filed out at the end of class, Annie stayed behind. She approached Mr. Herkabe's desk as he shuffled papers and slid them into his briefcase. "Uh, Mi– Mister Herkabe?" she stuttered.

"What is it, Number One?" he asked without looking up.

"Uh, you can call me 'Anne'– I mean 'Annie,'" she murmured. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yes, precisely one minute. Go."

She hesitated, lips parted. "I was hoping I could kind of– uh, clear the air about yesterday's test. Malcolm was only doing it for the others' sakes because of how it's affecting them—"

"I don't see anything wrong in their academic performances."

"Oh, it's not their academic performances. It's their mental... performances, I guess. They're literally going to drive themselves crazy if you continue using the ranking board. So, I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you—"

Finally, Mr. Herkabe raised his eyes. He crossed his arms and curled the corners of his lips in a mean smile. "Has being Number One in the class already gotten to your head? You think you – the student – can walk in here, stammering like a fool, and tell me – the teacher – what I can and can't do?" he challenged.

Annie gawked, "No! That wasn't my intention at all. I'm not trying to tell you to do anything. I'm concerned about my friends and their well-being, is all. And it's something that can be easily fixed and—"

"And you thought you could persuade me into changing my mind with... what? Your charm? Your pathological need to be liked?" Mr. Herkabe retorted. At her shaken expression, he proceeded, "Oh, yes. I've heard plenty from several dim-witted faculty members about how you are ever-so eager to do whatever is asked of you. A 'stellar student,' they say. But I'd rather call you a 'kiss-up.' And a very blatant one at that."

She gasped. There was a burning sensation building from the pit of her stomach and crawling to her cheeks. She was sure that her face was a glowing red – but whether it was out of anger or humiliation, she was lost. 

She was never ridiculed for being attentive to a teacher, never called something horrible for it. She was always a joy to be around. Even Ms. Caroline told her that she hoped her child would be a smidgen like her.

When she didn't answer, Herkabe picked up his briefcase. "Now, of course, I won't have any sort of tolerance for kiss-ups. If I were you, I would drop this little facade you have going and work just as hard as your fellow classmates. Do you understand, Number One?" he said. He pointed at her nose for emphasis.

She fought the urge to take a bite out of his finger and nodded, "Yes, Mister Herkabe" before racing out of the room.

Annie didn't realize that Malcolm was waiting for her on the other side of the door until she nearly collided with him. "Woah, Annie! Are you okay?" he asked, surprised by her huffing and puffing.

"I'm fine. Herkabe's just a jerk."

"Oh, alright," Malcolm said as they walked side by side in the direction of the lunch tables. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait, you've never called a teacher by their last name. He must've really pissed you off," he observed. "What happened? Did he lower your ranking?"

She wasn't sure if he meant the question to sound mocking or not, but nevertheless, Annie swung around and shouted, "I said I was fine, Malcolm! Just drop it!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez."

Amidst the several Krelboynes meticulously ignoring their lunches and studying, the two friends settled themselves at an empty table. They sat in silence for a while. Malcolm spoke up, "I think I have a plan to beat Herkabe's system."

Annie scoffed, "Good luck with that."

"No, really. I'll actually try. In fact, I'll try as much as I can. I'll overdo it without burning myself out. I just have to—"

"Like I said, good luck."


End file.
